


Time Aggravates Some Wounds

by Onamonapiedia



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Abandonment, Body Modification, Canon-Typical Dark Themes, Canon-Typical Violence, Cybertronian Sari, Friendship, Gen, Non-Explicit, Non-sexual, Post-Series, Redemption, Romantic Undertones Only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onamonapiedia/pseuds/Onamonapiedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bumblebee returns to Earth excited to spend time with his best friend Sari whom he hasn't seen in nearly ten years. But in his absence Sari has grown, now in charge of her father’s multibillion dollar robotics empire she no longer has the time to deal with the childish antics of a foolish minibot. When Sari goes missing Bumblebee will go to the ends of the universe to find her. But with a new alliance, will Sari even want to return?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ten Years

**Author's Note:**

> The characters in this story are property of Hasbro.
> 
> This story was inspired by MamonnA's Sari Sketches01. A link to the artwork can be found in my profile.
> 
> I'm rewriting this story. The old version is over on FanFiction, but I won't be updating. And they are serious revisions, this chapter alone has over doubled in word count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters in this story are property of Hasbro.
> 
> This story was inspired by MamonnA's Sari Sketches01. A link to the artwork can be found in my profile.
> 
> This story is a rewrite. The old version was posted on Fanfiction.net.

Ten stellar cycles.

Ten _whole_ stellar cycles since they defeated Megatron, saved Earth, and retrieved the Allspark from Decepticon servos. Ten stellar cycles of the hero treatment, promotions to the elite guard, and _finally_ getting the long overdue glory they deserved. Ten stellar cycles wasn’t long in a Cybertronian’s life, but it felt like forever to Bumbleebee.  Because ten stellar cycles ago _she_ returned to Earth.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t liked it on Cybertron. She really had wanted to stay. To learn everything she could about their art, science, and history. You know, all that really boring stuff that put him into recharge whenever the tutorbots had lectured at the academy. But he would have happily taken her to every dull museum he could find on Cybertron, just to see the way here eyes lit up when she got to view the newest sculpture by the up-and-coming artist Sunstreaker. Or the mathematical equation that was supposed to be the theoretical basis for all transformative life in the universe; something they both had snickered at when he made a crude joke about the appearance of the problem. He was just glad she hadn’t known the crass comment better suited the suggestive structure of the equation than the series of numbers. He would have sat through every processor-numbing lecture on energon distribution and the socioeconomic problems facing the lower classes, just to see her smile. He even would have waited quietly for megacycles as she discussed the possibilities of integrating cybernetics into organic structures with the most monotonous scienebot in the history of Cybertron.

If she had stayed, he would have done everything he could to make her happy. But only a deca-cylce after they made planet fall, a communication form Earth came through from her father. He was sick.  _Really_ sick.

It had something to do to with radiation and poisoning. Apparently humans are sensitive to even the lowest levels of certain energy waves. Ratchet had tried to explain it to him, but most of the details went over his helm. What he did understand was that the Earth doctors suspected he had been exposed during his captivity to Megatron… and they were doubtful of his recovery.

Jazz said she had cried the entire trip back to Earth.

He wished he could have gone wither her, been the one to hold her over the long journey and tell her everything would be alright. That between Earth and Cybertron of course they would be able to find a cure. He even wished he could have been by her side when all those promises turned to lies and her world came crashing down around her. Even if she had hated him for everything that happened, blamed his entire species for the disease that took her father away. He wanted to have been there for her. Been a shoulder to cry on or an audio for her to scream at. Anything if it had just meant one person was by her side, that she hadn’t been by herself when it finally happened.

He would never forgive himself for letting her watch her father die alone.

But he was an Elite Guard now, and with a new title came new responsibilities. He was no longer free to "run off to another planet and spend his solar cycles fooling around with a bunch of disgusting organics", or at least that’s what Sentinal had said when he had first asked for time off. He almost went anyways, snuck onto the next supply ship headed to that quadrant and made the rest up when he got there. He would have left that evening shift too… if only she had let him.

But she wouldn’t hear of it, wouldn’t allow him to abandon his post after all he went through to get it even as her eyes threatened to start leaking. This was his dream after all, she'd said, everything he had ever talked about and wished for. The entire reason he had joined the Autobot military in the first place. She wouldn’t be responsible for him giving up on his dream after just having achieved it.

His dream felt like nothing without her.

But he stayed behind, swore he would mind his duties and not run off across the universe just to check up on her. He did what she'd asked of him. Even though it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life. Even though it made his spark ache every time he thought of how far away she was, and sent aching jolts of energy coursing through his frame whenever he remembered the pain she had to endure. The pain his kind had inflicted on her. He did everything she had asked of him, simply because she had asked it… Because it might mean she could be happy again.

He knew her life had been difficult after her father passed. Even though they were no longer able to see each other in person, they'd kept in contact via the newly established Interstellar Communications Network. And each solarcycle she had told him of the new struggles she had to face. Her father may have amended his will, officially leaving all his assets to her, but that far from secured her control over his company. Not even a deca-cycle after her father’s funeral, and her official inauguration to CEO of his company, and she was already in a legal battle over the legitimacy of a non-human technorganic owning and operating a business within the United States.

He had tried to help, to be supportive of her new life. But they both knew he was no good at any of that business type stuff. Especially after that one time he tried to be her secretary when she took over her father’s business the first time.

The new bots assigned to guard Earth against any remaining Decepticon threats weren’t any help either. Those Protectobots knew even less about Earth commerce than he did. And even if they were able to help her out in any way, she didn’t even know them. She was now completely alone on a planet she didn’t fit in, fighting an uphill battle against Powell and the government alike. She was going through the hardest time of her life without a single friend in sight, human _or_ Autobot.

The others had tried to help, but they where even busier than he was. Being heralded as the new hope for the Autobot cause, Optimus’ time was split between being shipped around the universe to deal with any remaining Decepticon threats and studying under the still recovering Ultra Magnus as his new successor. Something Sentinal had hollered about anytime the other Prime was mentioned.

Bulkhead had been drafted by the Master Builders and was currently working with Grapple to stabilize the spacebridge connection with Earth. Which apparently meant a complete overhaul of the system starting at Cybertorn’s main port in Tarn.

Ratchet, after insuring Omega Supreme was being well taken care of and wouldn’t be re-slated for decommission, returned to his post as the Head Medical Officer of the Autobot army. Something he oh so conveniently forgot to mention during their stellar cycles as a team.

Prowl… well, Prowl had already helped them all he could.

No one else had the time. So that'd left him to be the one every night-shift racing back to the little apartment he'd been assigned with his promotion (it was nothing in comparison to the penthouse Optimus had been given, but at least it had a private wash rack) to anxiously wait for her communiqué. He'd been there for her to complain to about greedy board members and the (very) lengthy process of getting the newest cardiovascular stents approved by the FDA. Every orbital cycle he listened eagerly to anything she had to say. Even when he only understood every other word, and hadn’t been able to do anything to help but give a nod of his helm and emit a reassuring sound from his vocalizer. He had listened intently, just happy hearing her voice.

Sometimes if they were lucky, if she hadn’t already been called away, after she had told him of all the problems in her life he got to tell her about his _totally amazing_ new life as an elite guard. He made her laugh with stories of the many misadventure of his new boss and fellow guardbots, protecting Cybertron from Decepticons and common criminals alike. Though he always seemed to forgot to mention how working security for Red Alert, the new head of security not the medic, was mainly just more boring monitor duty like it had been on Earth, minus the chance of actually getting to show off his cool moves (oh, and don’t forget the paranoid glitching, _so_ much paranoid glitching).

But then, after about a stellar cycle, she started missing their communiqués. At first it had only been a few solar cycles between each transmission. But soon deca-cycles had passed without even a word. In a mere stellar cycle they had gone from talking every night-shift to only once an orbital cycle, and then… nothing.

He had known she was busy, that she couldn’t afford spending every evenings chatting with him.  But it was so unlike her, letting her work distract her from spending time with her friends. She wasn’t acting anything like the laid back little girl he had known on Earth.

One night-shift, when he had worried himself into a frenzy, he used his authority as an Elite Guard to force a communication through to Earth. But he only got as far as the Protectobot leader Hot Spot. The ladder truck's reassurance that she was simply a very sought after individual and when they had last spoken during a video conference on improving Autobot/Human relations she had seemed perfectly fine, if not a bit distracted by her responsibilities as head of the most distinguished organization on the planet. He hadn't found any of this reassuring.

Still, he trusted her. So, he did his least favorite thing in the universe and waited. If he could do it for anyone, it was her. Every few orbital cycles he did try sending a request of communication through. When those failed to gain a response, he kept waiting. He waited because after all these stellar cycles he had yet to give up on her. Because she was still his best friend, even if she seemed to have forgotten. Because one solar cycle he would eventually find a way back to Earth. But most importantly, he waited because he knew she needed him to wait.

But the wait was finally over. At long last he was returning to Earth. It was the first time any of the original team had been back to the organic planet, and he was so excited to finally be revisiting that little blue rock he could hardly keep himself from fidgeting. Through his nonstop pacing he had already knocked over three stacks of crates and broken what was apparently an "antique Vanguard-class Deep Space Interceptor model created before the Great War" as was very angrily yelled at him. The small cargo ship’s captain had confined him to the tiny quarters he shared with Ratchet (who was tagging along to perform an inspection on the Earth Base’s medical bay), and the three other mechs who made up the crew had taken it upon themselves to keep him there until the ship landed. The way that grumpy red and blue minibot griped he was sure to lose a servo if he broke anything else.

The distinct change in color outside his porthole window from speckled black to an airy blue hue, promised it wouldn’t be much longer now.  It was only be a matter of cycles until they set down, and then he would finally be able to see her again.

First, he’d apologize, beg at her feat if he must, for not being there so many stellar cycles ago. He'd promise anything and everything he could to make it up to her. Then, after she forgave him, they would go to the biggest videogame store in the city, buy the latest triple A titles and stay up all night seeing who could beat them first. Or, maybe they’d go to the Burger Bot and get some of those milkshakes she liked so much. He’d buy her every flavor of frozen cow secretions she could imagine if that's what it took. After he made surem she was happy again, everything could go back to normal.

It would be like he had never even left.

 

A jolt rocked the ship causing him to stumble in his anxious pacing, the familiar shudder of landing gear impacting solid rock, and in a nanoklik he was skidding down the hall before the artificial gravity even had a chance to disengage. He made it to the cargo ship’s hold on screeching tires and was first in front of the exit before the hatch even had a chance to open. Bouncing excitedly on his wheels, he counted the astroseconds until the pressure seals would release, while the already assembled crew pelted him with glares and a resigned sigh from Ratchet registered in the back of his processor. A hydraulic hiss echoed through the hold as the hatch began to open, the smell of fresh air rushing in to great them. Bacteria ridden currents and pollen infested wind filled his olfactory receptors, mixing with the stench of synthetic grease and stale energon all too common on transport vessels such as this. Behind him the grumpy-bot cleared his vents, complaining of the tainted air, but he couldn’t care less… to him it was perfect.

The hatch descended downward forming a ramp as a hoard of flashing lights greeted them from a distance, held back by a line of worn wooden barriers and stationary policebots. Humidity seeped under his plating, clinging to his circuits and making his tension cables ache as he stepped back out into the world he had left so long ago. His grin broadened, stretching wide across his face plates as he raised his servo to block the glare of the yellow star providing the necessary warmth for organic life. Trimmed grass crunched under his peds and the surrounding trees quivered from the force of the engines still powering down. In the distance, over the sounds of the clamoring crowd, he could hear horns honking and people screaming. The amazing sounds that could only mean human life.

Earth. It was like he had never even left.

He had made it, finally returned to where he truly belonged.  He may have been sparked on Cyberton, protoformed in its factories and trained in its academy. But _this_ was where he was meant to be. This was where _she_ was.

He looked across the empty safety zone to the crowd of tiny flailing life forms, so fragile and delicate, yet stronger than they had any right to be. He regarded the city they’d built and the society they’d crafted, considered everything they ever were and everything they ever hoped to be. He thought back to all the times he had worked to protect them, and all they had given him in return. These were his people, these were the ones he was built to protect, and who would protect him in return. Slowly, he waved the servo still raised high above his head and as the crowd cheered in response the only thing he could think was…

 “Sari, I’m home.”


	2. The Traffic Was Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sari has a typical day at work.

Three hours.

Three hours she had been stuck in traffic on a trip that most days took at longest thirty minutes. Three hours sitting in the plush seat of her private car, wedged between the constant forms of a hulking silver minivan and twitchy red truck, both of whom barely avoided removing the curved white steel of her limousine’s front bumper on several occasions. Three hours with no way to command her multibillion dollar empire but a holoform display and video phone, and it was all the Autobots' fault. A simple cargo delivery and the entirety of Detriot was under gridlock.

To say Sari Sumdac was not happy as her limo finally pulled up in front of the sparkplug shaped tower, would be to call a nanobot somewhat small.

When the vehicle at last came to a halt on the curved cement drive, the young woman erupted from the backseat, not giving time for her lumbering chauffeurbot to perform his duty of holding the door. Storming up the walk and through the visitor’s entrance (she would not suffer the trip through more traffic around the property to her private access) she ignored the uniform greetings of the infobots stationed in the lobby, directing gawking tourists away from vital sections of the building. She strode past the group of primary elevator shafts delivering sets of employees to the offices above, and marched though a pair of double doors leading away from the commotion of the main lobby and towards the maintenance staff accesses. Selecting the required lift, the only one besides her executive elevator at the rear of the building with stops on the upper levels, she entered her master override code, commanding the transport directly to the lobby floor.

The seconds it took for the compartment to arrive were infuriating. When the doors finally opened with a soft ding, she had no concern for the confused repair technician at the back of the transport. Firmly avoiding eye contact with the man, she lamented the fact that there would always be those few jobs that just couldn’t be augmented in the way her business was known best. Turning her back on the unwanted company, she swept the thin silver bracelet permanently closed around her wrist in front a sensor at the top of the large panel of illuminated buttons. From a speaker hidden in the wall a mechanically feminine voice spoke, indicating her identity chip had been confirmed, and a small section of metal slid back to reveal a series of circles previously hidden. Selecting the top most button she ignored the quiet cough of the individual behind her, and waited for the lift to rise to its lofty destination.

When the transport finally came to a stop at the highest level, she swiftly exited the confining space, grateful as the metal doors closed on the undoubtedly judging eyes inside. At least it had been quite on the way up.

Marching down the hall, she paused for but a moment to compose herself before pressing the tip of her finger against a lock pad fixed on the wall, commanding the adjacent fogged glass doors to slide back, and stepped into her executive conference room.

“Gentlemen,” she said using the most saccharine-sweet voice she could manage, “I apologize for the wait.”

Inside the room a group of fifteen men sat straight-backed in ergonomic chairs around a long brushed steel table. Each capitalist was a piece of a set in pressed Armani suits and perfectly manicured nails. The representatives from the Hong Kong Robotics and Technologies Company, men who under no circumstances should have been kept waiting.

“It is a… no problem, Ms. Sumdac,” Wang Weiquo, the senior delegate and deciding member on all business transactions responded.  “Mr. Powell here has been… very accommodating in your absence.”  His gaze only briefly lifting from the short tan man in a pristine white suit who was swiping through the files stored on _her_ glass tablet at the head of the conference table.

The corners of Sari’s courtesy smile faltered as she took in the arrogant actions of her most hated Board memeber.

“Yes, and I believe we were just about to close a deal Mr. Wang,” Powell commented through his crooked grin, spotting a sideways glance to his equally despised employer. “All I need is a signature, and you can all be on your way.”

Powell pressed a series of commands into the portable screen in his hand and an inlayed display came to life in front the foreign envoy, a digital pen emerging from a hidden compartment to his right. With a disgruntled frown Mr. Wang picked up the stylus, and, after a brief hesitation, endorsed the document on the dotted line, obligating both parties to whatever was written within.

“I trust you will send the rest of the contract to my office in Beijing, Mr. Powell,” Mr. Wang asked as his associates packed away papers and collected their belongings, preparing to depart.

“It’ll be waiting on your desk when you get back,” Powell replied, a triumphant smirk plastered on his smug face. As the men rose from their seats and followed their superior to the door, Sari struggled for something to say.

“Have a good day, gentlemen,” she managed, barely hiding her frustration as she took the role of doorstop to the men’s exit. The only response she received was a disgusted sneer from the senior representative when her irritation made her sluggish in stepping out of his way, causing their arms to brush.

“And a safe flight home,” Powell added, ensuring his where the last words the delegates would hear.

Sari counted the seconds until the executive elevator chimed, indicating its descent and her freedom to drop the polite facade. Slamming the side of her fist against the locking mechanism for the glass doors, she stalked across the large room to reclaim _her_ tablet from the Marketing Director’s greedy little hands.

“I told you to keep them entertained, not make a deal,” she spat before beginning the task of analyzing _her_ company’s newest contract.

“What’s more entertaining than making a deal?” Powell sneered beside her, picking imaginary dust off his white suit and looking properly offended.  “Go ahead and review the document,” he taunted, “I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a good one.  Powell—ah… _Sumdac_ Systems definitely comes out on top in this one.”

Sari sent a glare at the old man for his “slip of the tongue” and returned to scrolling through page after page of text, analyzing the words faster than an ordinary person would be able. She looked for any mistakes he had made, a lapse in judgment or error in calculation that would result in complications further down the line. Hoping for a single oversight she could use to rub in the cocky little share holder’s face. But there was nothing, not a sole omission or blunder had been made. The contract was perfect, better than she had even been expecting when the meeting was initially planned. Not only had the weasel managed to lower production costs of the nanite skin regrowth cream they commissioned from the organization, but he had also succeeded in securing a controlling interest in all the company’s future manufacturing.

None of it made up for his repeat offense though.

“I will remind you _one_ more time Powell, _I_ am the head of this company, _not_ you,” she bit at the sleazy salesman as she placed _her_ tablet on top of _her_ conference table with determined care.  “I could have you _fired_ for overstepping your bounds.”

“This again? I swear you threaten to have me sacked at least once a week,” he scoffed, extracting his phone from inside his breast pocket and taking the time to scroll through the messages held within.  “Fire me from Marketing Director and I’ll just find another way back into the company, I am its second biggest investor after all. Besides, the fact that I’m still here proves you _know_ you can’t survive without me. If you truly wanted me gone you would have done something a little more permanent _years_ ago. Besides, I thought you would be pleased, it _is_ an extremely profitable contract, and I highly doubt those men would have been as willing to negotiate if they had been working with the likes of you. In the end people _do_ prefer _human_ interaction after all.”

Sari fumed, jolts of electricity sparking between the gaps in plating on her hands as her alloy fingers gripped the thick edge of the metal table, warping the softer steel. She wanted to lash out, to yell and scream at the impudent con man for his cruel words, for implying that she was anything less than human. She longed to watch as he was personally escorted off the premises and forcefully ejected from the building. She _needed_ to do something, _anything_ , to make the spiteful little man regret ever having made such hateful implications.

But she couldn’t. There wasn’t a single thing for her to do to make the slanderer pay for his callous words. Not because he was a chairman and she would need approval from five eights of the board of trustees before he could be dismissed. Not because he had managed to scheme and bride his way into obtaining almost all of the company shares she didn’t already own. Not even because he had just made a deal that would bring millions of dollars into the corporation and allow them to create thousands of new jobs, resulting in possible billions in profit.

No. She was unable to do anything to refute Powell’s insinuations… because everything he had said was true.

She had seen the way Mr. Wang had looked at her, the sneer of disgust on his face at them touching. His obvious refusal to give her the time of day. And it wasn't as if his behavior was anything strange.  How many times had she lost contracts because people hadn’t wanted to haggle with the “android”?  How many potential clients had been scared away by the unyielding flesh of her hand or the vacant rifts between plates at the joints in her arms? Sure it all made a great publicity stunt, the public always loved seeing the mechanical side of her, and it was an undoubtedly reliable scare tactic to use in negotiations. But she had long since taken to wearing full length sleeves to all meetings. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had transformed.  If her company hadn’t become so instrumental in the workings of the world, she hardly doubted anyone would even bother with her.

“You may have been able to upgrade yourself into _looking_ like an adult, but you’ll never convince them you're one of us,” Powell stated, retrieving his briefcase from where he had placed it in the outstretched servo of a Generation 1 Tutorbot on display by the door. “Face it dear, you need me… you always will.”

With this last remark he exited, leaving Sari alone in the empty conference room with only the company of her sorrowful anger and the now shorted out tablet resting in front of her.

For several moments she stood frozen at the head of the table, shoulders tensed as she focused on trying to control her erratic breathing. She needed to calm down, to reign in her anger before she destroyed something of real importance. The tablet wasn’t the first thing to suffer because of her inability to control the energy projectors imbedded in her hands. Countless electronics had met a similar demise and she was all too aware of the destructive power she would unleash if she didn’t settle down, and soon. With a final exhale, she forced the current to weaken, to return to the laser core at the center of her body, lessening her danger to the many electronics spread throughout the conference room as well as the rest of the building. They couldn’t afford a complete shutdown of the complex simply because she lost her temper. Again.

With the charge contained she was able to move about the room without fear of destroying everything she had worked to create, but even with the voltage restrained she was not free of its constant menace. Everywhere she went the current was always there, hiding just below her heart like a coiled snake waiting for its chance to strike. In the early days, just after she became CEO and performed her final adult upgrade, she had experimented with trying to eliminate the voltage from her systems. But the results of those early tests had been disastrous enough to convince her this was not something she could simply correct.

For nearly a decade now she had been dealing with the charge, succeeding only in keeping the force at bay. But despite her efforts every year it seemed to grow, increasing the incessant ache in her spark. Each month it became harder and harder to contain, and these last few weeks had been near unbearable. Even the simplest things could set her off, the slightest irritation resulting in hours of fighting to keep the projectors offline. The computer in her office had already been replaced three times this month. If she didn’t find some way to get this problem under control soon she would once again become the walking catastrophe she had been all those years ago when she used the Allspark key to force her first upgrade… But this time, no one would be there to stop her.

There was no other choice, she couldn’t put it off anymore. It was time visit _her_ again.

This was too soon, the therapies were supposed to last longer, a year at the least. But her latest visit had only been two months ago and she was already out of control. If things continued at this rate she would be needing a treatment once every month before the year was even out. If she didn’t find a solution by next New Year’s Eve, she doubted there would be anything left of her to fix.

There was no other choice, they would have to push the schedule up, advance on to stage two of this little project of theirs. It had been nearly ten years now, it was about time Sari started seeing some results. 

 

With a sigh Sari pushed herself up from the table, temporarily driving these troubles from her mind.  She would have to wait until later that night, when she was free of obligations and could make the long trip out of town under the cover of dark. Ever since they had first begun this little alliance, Sari had done everything she could to ensure that should anything go wrong there would be nothing to connect this “research project” back to her office. That meant a strict no communications policy between Sumdac Tower and the lab. Undoubtedly this new time table would not be met well, but there was no other choice left. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else was about to offer an ex-Decepticon asylum.

In the mean time, Sari needed a distraction.  Collecting the ruined tablet from the table, she made her way through the sliding glass doors and across the hall to her personal office. For once she almost succeeded in ignoring the permanently closed off stairwell leading to the abandoned hab suite on the upper levels. Safe inside her office she keyed in her master override code, sealing the pair of polished stainless steel doors between her and the rest of the world.

Depositing the broken tablet in a waste basket and ignoring the insistent beeping coming from the freshly installed computer terminal, she strode around her desk to a stretch of vacant wall next to the watchful portrait of her father, a constant reminder of all the company stood for. She didn't make eye contact as she reached down to the bottom edge of his frame and activated the switch hidden there. Holding her hand still as a sensor emerged from below the portrait, she waited for the microchip in her bracelet be accepted once again. Then, standing back, she watched as the wall contracted to reveal a passage leading into her private workshop.

The studio was nothing in comparison to what her father’s laboratory had been, she was the company’s CEO not mechanical engineer after all, but the space severed her well. She may not have the time to spend her days tinkering around with machines like her father had done, there was an entire Engineering Department for that, but it didn’t mean she was opposed to the occasional dabble when she got the chance. There was nothing quite like spending a few hours with your mind processor deep in source code to forget about all the problems of the world.

And besides, she had discovered one thing she and her father had in common: they were both remarkably good at reverse engineering.

Walking past the dissected robotic arm longer than she was tall on a table in the center of the room, Sari took a moment to examine the disarmed null ray being diagnosed at a terminal along the wall.  Inspecting the dull gray paint of the disabled weapon, she looked for any signs of reanimation. She may not be fool enough to keep the whole deactivated frame of a Decepticon warrior inside the same building which housed the most vital aspects of her company, but she still wasn’t taking any chances.  The limb _was_ Starscream’s after all.

Satisfied with the readouts on the screen (soon she would have enough data collected to begin the process of replicating the firearm at a more manageable size) and the limb’s continued dormant state, she moved across the space to a smaller workstation at the back of the shop. In the corner of the room, between a stack of Autobot sized datapads and a jumbled collection of awards she had been given by the city for her contribution to the plummeting crime rate, stood her childhood “pet” Sparkplug. Though the now vicious mechanoid Doberman Pinscher hardly resembled the goofy robotic pup who had stolen her access key so very long ago.

Recently the automaton had sustained damage while playing guinea pig during the final test run of a prototype unmanned evac transport when the entire assembly had plummeted ten stories in a dead drop after the rear propeller of the aircraft jammed, resulting in several grand in property damage.  The vehicle had been completely destroyed in the crash (and the people responsible for the highly publicized catastrophe fired), but the robotic hound had hardly sustained a scratch. A benefit of the Cybertronian alloy used to reinforce its frame. What little damage the mechanoid did received had already been mended by a horde of specially programmed repair nanites applied a few weeks prior.

All that was left to do now was run a full diagnostic on the operating systems to ensure all components were in working order, a task that had been put off these last few weeks as it required several hours of undivided attention. Hours that she suddenly now had, most of her day freeing up with the departure of the Chinese delegates.

Drawing out a thin cable from her wrist, Sari accessed a port at the back of the mechanical dog’s cranial unit and plugged her consciousness in. For the next few hours she allowed herself to be engrossed in the never ending lines of code, temporarily escaping from a world she no longer belonged in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished an outline for this story and will be continuing it from here. Unfortunately I won't be posting it until I've gotten a satisfactorily chunk of it all written. In editing to continue I did make Sari's personality a little less severe to better work with future plot points, so if you're coming back to this from four fucking years ago know that's why. This story's going to be a lot less Sari-centric then I originally envisioned when coming up with the premise for this story.


End file.
